Night On The Town
by SailorChibi
Summary: Isis had warned him that Bakura would lead him to his doom, but Malik ignored her. He was certain that she was wrong. Until he met Bakura's mysterious friend. But by then, it was too late, and maybe he should have listened to Isis after all... M/M, B/R
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Night on the Town  
**Summary:** Isis had warned him that Bakura would lead him to his doom, but Malik ignored her. He was certain that she was wrong. Until he met Bakura's mysterious friend. Then suddenly, it was too late, and maybe he should have listened to Isis after all... M/M, B/R  
**A/N:** What am I doing, starting another story? Well, I think this one will be pretty short, probably only a two or three shot. The chapters will be shorter than my standard as well. I've just been hearing a lot of people complaining about the shortage of bronzeshipping and tendershipping fics on the site – y'all make me feel guilty, here. So I'm going to_ try_ (key word: try) to add to them. Consider this an experiement. I'm not entirely comfortable with any of these characters yet, but I'm going to give it my best shot. Let me know what you think!

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Friday night. There were no better words than those two when strung together, unless it was "summer vacation". Unfortunately, summer vacation was a long way off, but Friday night meant two days of freedom from the school that his sister insisted that he attend. Malik Ishtar danced around his room, singing absently to himself in anticipation of a night out at the clubs, as he struggled to pull on his tightest pair of jeans. Unnoticed by him, the door opened a crack, and an amused set of pale blue eyes watched as he finally managed to yank the fabric up around his hips and fasten the jeans. He turned towards the mirror and grabbed his brush, then yelped when he caught sight of her face in the mirror.

"Nee-san! What are you doing?" he demanded, a rosy pink color settling upon his tanned cheeks. "Why didn't you knock?"

Isis chuckled and opened the door fully. "I did, but you were so involved in singing that you didn't hear me," she countered, tilting her head with amusement. She watched him for a moment, her expression gradually growing grave. "Where are you going?"

"Downtown." Malik quickly looked away and began brushing his white-blond hair, hoping against hope that she would drop it. He knew, however, that it would never happen. Isis had been taking care of him for so long that she considered herself to be more like his mother than his sister, and that meant she went out of her way to keep tabs on everything he did and every place he went. Sadly, that also included all of the friends he spent time with. Either his tone or his actions must have given him away, because Isis frowned.

"With Bakura?" she asked sharply.

"Bakura _might_ be joining us," he said with as much innocence as he could muster. It wasn't technically a lie. He grabbed a tight violet tank top and the silvery mesh shirt he wanted to wear over it and quickly pulled them on to avoid her penetrating stare.

"You know I don't like it when you spend time with him," Isis said, stepping into the room and folding her arms. "I don't usually involve myself with your friends, Malik. I know you're old enough to chose who you want to spend time with, and I trust that you will make good decisions. But I really wish that you would stop hanging around with Bakura."

"Why? Because he's a bad influence?" The sarcastic comment slipped out before he could stop it. Isis pressed her lips together into a thin line as he straightened his shirt, and he sighed, knowing that if he didn't make an effort to smooth things over, she'd be giving him the silent treatment for a while. "Nee-san, I don't know why you dislike him so much. Bakura's not the bad person he used to be. Ever since he started dating Ryou, he's actually changed a lot."

He didn't even know why he was bothering to argue with her. Even as the words came out, he knew exactly how fruitless that they were. Isis had _never_ liked Bakura. From the moment that Malik had met the older boy at a club and become fast friends, she'd been against him. He'd never forget the first night he'd brought Bakura home. The tension had been through the roof. Fortunately, Bakura had apparently found her poorly concealed hostility amusing, and didn't take offence. Since then, Malik had been careful to mention his friend to Isis as little as possible, but he didn't like outright lying to her, and it was true: Bakura had become a completely different person with Ryou's steady influence.

"Malik, please stay home tonight."

"Eh?" Lavender eyes wide, Malik dropped his brush and gave her a look of utter bemusement. "Nee-san, everyone is waiting for me. My ride will be here soon."

"I don't want you to go out with him!" There was an urgency in her voice that both confused and annoyed him.

"Why?" Grabbing his keys, he propped a hand on his hip, hoping that he didn't look as exasperated as he felt. "Unless you can give me a good reason..."

Isis looked torn. "Malik, I..."

"Good-bye, Nee-san," he said, rolling his eyes and tucking his wallet into his jeans. He stepped towards her, intending on giving her a kiss on the cheek, and was unprepared for when she grabbed his arm and yanked him against her so hard that he stumbled. "Ow! Nee-san, what are you doing? I'm going to be late."

"Bakura is dangerous," she said, ignoring what he said, willing him to understand. "Ever since I met him, I've had this feeling that he's going to lead you to your doom. You_ can't_ be around him. Please stay home."

A chill shot down his spine, though he tried his best not to let it show on his face. Isis had been getting "feelings" since they were young about things that hadn't happened yet, and she was almost always right. Logic dictated that he should have listened to her, but he couldn't see Bakura doing anything to hurt him. "Nee-san..."

"I just don't want you getting hurt." Her fingernails dug into his arm. It hurt, and he winced slightly without thinking about how it would look. Isis blinked, then released him with a look of surprise. "Sorry, I – "

"It's alright." He cut her off. "Look, I promise that I'll be careful, but I really don't see how Bakura could be dangerous to me. Ryou's got him so wound around his little finger that Bakura couldn't do anything even if he wanted to, which he _doesn't_. Honest. I know this is hard for you to believe, but he's actually a really nice guy. Now, please let me go." A crooked smile formed on his lips, and he gave her a playful wink as his cell phone chirped with a text message. "I swear that if Bakura asks me to go down a dark alley, I won't."

Her lips twitched as she fought back a smile. Malik knew he'd won and cheered silently as she stepped aside. "You've grown up so fast," she observed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I just don't want to lose you."

"Won't ever be a problem," he said reassuringly, leaning forward and brushing a kiss across her soft cheek. He walked out of the room after that, not wanting to give her the chance to protest anymore. In spite of his confident manner, he couldn't help feeling chilled as he headed out of their house and spotted Bakura's car idling in the driveway. For a split second, he hesitated, wondering if it wouldn't be better to head back inside and stay home with Isis after all. His decision was made for him when the occupants of the car caught sight of him.

"Malik, hurry up!" Bakura shouted, sticking his head out the window. "Move it."

"Bakura!" Ryou reached across the car and punched his boyfriend in the shoulder, looking exasperated. "Jesus, knock it off, would you? He's coming."

Just like that, all of his tension drained away, and Malik found himself smiling easily as he sauntered forward and got into the backseat. "Hey, Ryou. Bakura, you're so impatient. I don't know how Ryou puts up with you."

"It takes practice," Ryou said.

"Oi!" Bakura glared at him. "You _can_ walk, you know."

Ryou's doe-brown eyes widened dramatically. "But then I'd be too tired to play tonight, Kura-chan. You wouldn't want that... would you?" His hand, which had been resting on Bakura's arm, slid lower. Malik felt his face heat as he glanced hastily out the window, but there was no way to block out the sound of Bakura's strangled curse.

"Come on, you two," he complained. "Do you have to do this now?"

"Oh, err, sorry, Malik." Blushing, Ryou started to pull his hand back. Bakura caught it in his and kept Ryou's hand trapped even as he started the car up and began backing it down the driveway. "Hey, Malik, isn't that your sister? She doesn't look very happy..."

Malik looked back at the house. Sure enough, Isis was standing there, watching the car drive away. Even from a distance, he could make out the frown with no problem. "She didn't think I should go out tonight. Said she had a feeling something bad was going to happen. Stupid, huh?"

In the front seat, Ryou and Bakura looked at each other without saying anything for a long moment. Ryou sighed and pulled his hand away from Bakura's as he looked away, out the window. Bakura just smirked and turned his gaze forward so that his reddish brown eyes were watching Malik in the mirror. For the first time ever, Malik felt a bit uncomfortable at the strength of Bakura's gaze. Isis's words about Bakura leading him to his 'doom' washed over him again, along with a prickling sensation, and he fidgeted.

"That is stupid," Bakura said finally, breaking the heavy silence. "I'm sure you'll have a good time tonight. One of my friends is in town. I just know that you two are going to hit it off."

"Great," Malik said awkwardly, wondering why that made feel him like he should jump out of the car and run back the other way. When the hell had Bakura gotten into match-making? He kept looking out the window, wanting to avoid Bakura's penetrating gaze, and tried to keep from feeling too nervous about the night ahead. Surely nothing too bad would happen... right?

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Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

The club was loud, dark, and crammed full of people. Exactly the way that Malik and Bakura liked it. Ryou shook his head in a tolerant way and went to go find a table as the two of them plunged onto the dance floor. Malik _loved _to dance. It gave him a sense of freedom that few other things could. There was nothing quite like letting go in a sea of strangers and knowing that none of them cared because everyone else was too caught up in their own little world to even notice the people around them.

Bakura, on the other hand, enjoyed it for an entirely different reason. He usually paid for their nights by stealing the occasional wallet from what he termed as 'morons who were too stupid to pay attention to their wallets, so they deserved what they got'. Dance clubs were filled with the best targets because no one paid attention to a casual brush of fingers across a waist or an ass, and generally by the time someone _did_ notice the thief was long gone. It was a habit Ryou had tried hard to break and eventually given up on. Now the younger boy just pretended not to notice, and Bakura, to his credit, had limited the amount of wallets he pilfered.

"Happy hunting," Malik said, running a hand through his white-blond hair.

"You don't know how right you are." Bakura smirked, his eyes gleaming unnaturally in the brilliant lights. "Once you've tired yourself out, come find us. My friend will be there waiting."

"Whatever." No longer paying attention to the conversation, Malik drifted away from him, attention caught by a beautiful purple drink that sparkled tantalizingly. The girl holding the drink tossed it back with an excited whoop, and then she and her friends burst into giggles. Unwittingly, the blond pouted, cursing the fact that he was still technically under-age. He wasn't even supposed to be in the club, but Bakura had a way of talking to bouncers that got both him and Ryou in under the radar. Unfortunately, there was no way he'd get alcohol out of the mix.

Sulking only slightly, he joined the crowd of dancers on the floor and started to move. It took no time at all for him to lose himself in the hypnotic pulse. His hips swinging, he threw his head back and raised his hands in the air. A strange feeling prickled across his skin, but he strove to ignore it, instead focusing completely on the music and the desire to forget everything that he was. He danced for what could have been hours or minutes, accepting every partner that stepped up beside him, turning away no one, but staying with each person for only a short time before moving on.

The whole time, that feeling never left.

Eventually, he figured it out.

Someone was watching him.

It wasn't like it was the first time someone had become interested in him. Malik was, after all, young and hot and, as far as anyone at the club knew, he was looking for a body to show him a good time. But it _was_ the first time that the intensity of the stare had made him so uncomfortable and _aware_, like the stare was a physical thing that was actually caressing his skin.

Opening his eyes, Malik gave a half-lidded, sultry glance around the floor, like he was looking for an acceptable partner. He wasn't - Bakura was surprisingly overprotective and had the tendency to scare the shit out of anyone who so much as looked at Ryou or Malik sideways - but no one else was aware of that. The shivery feeling collecting on the back of his neck led him to turn until he locked onto a pair of dark, reddish purple eyes that were openly staring at him.

It was a man, clearly fairly tall even though he was seated, with broad shoulders. He had blond hair with bangs that were curved into natural spikes. Deeply tanned skin spoke of a great deal of time spent outdoors, and combined with a clingy black tank top that revealed more muscles than it head, it was more than enough to catch the attention of both men and women. Malik felt his throat go dry as he quickly spun away under the pretense of grabbing the hips of a young girl who had been dancing next to him. She giggled and threw her arms around his neck, pulling their bodies closer. Normally it would have been enough to incite a reaction from him, but all he could feel was the burning sensation of those eyes boring into his back.

He was so preoccupied with trying to ignore _those eyes_ that he completely missed Ryou's approach until the white-haired boy grabbed his shoulder. Malik jumped and Ryou laughed even as concern flashed through honey-brown eyes. "I've never known you to be so nervous at a club," he observed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Malik said hastily, licking his lips. His throat still felt parched, like all of the saliva in his mouth had mysteriously vanished. He refused to think about why. "I'm just having a hard time getting in the mood tonight."

"Why don't you come sit down for a while?" Ryou suggested, looking worried. He was about two seconds from putting his hand on Malik's forehead, and judging by the way the blond sidestepped him, Malik knew it. "You do look a little pale. Maybe you're coming down with something."

"You're such a mother hen," he teased, running a hand through his damp hair. "I'm not sick, Ryou. Just… just tired, that's all."

"All the more reason to sit down," Ryou declared. Not willing to take 'no' as an answer, he clamped onto Malik's arm and physically dragged the slightly taller boy through the crowd, which seemed to willingly part before him. Malik sighed to himself and allowed Ryou to shove him down into one of the chairs at the table. It felt good to sit and rest legs that had been threatening to shake beneath him all night - or at least, it did until he looked up and realized that the owner of _those eyes_ was sitting right across from him. Instantly, all of the breath left his lungs, and he forgot how to pull it back in.

"Malik, this is Bakura's friend, Mariku," Ryou told him, glancing back and forth between the two of them with an odd expression on his face. He hesitated, hovering over the table, and then sighed. "I'll go get us something to drink." As he made to step away from the table, he gave Malik a good solid_ thump_ on the back. Malik gasped, drawing air into starved lungs, and started coughing like mad.

"You alright?" The voice was silken and deep, like warm chocolate, and did nothing to help his gagging and sputtering. A glass filled with a dark amber liquid was placed in front of him. "Drink that. It'll help."

Sparing only a second to ignore the voice that sounded suspiciously like Isis that sprang up in the back of his head yelling about taking food from strangers, Malik grabbed the glass and took a quick drink, half-expecting the angry burn of alcohol that never came. Instead, the liquid was soothing to his aching throat, with an almost pleasant taste that hinted at an underlying current of bitterness. He continued drinking in huge gulps until the glass was empty, and then he set it down with a suspicious look.

"Why were you watching me on the dance floor?" he demanded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The man - Mariku, was it? - didn't seem to be offended by the comment. If anything, he seemed amused. "Why wouldn't I watch you? Isn't that what you come here for?"

"No!" Malik burst out. A hot flush crept up his cheeks and he scowled, hoping against hope that the club was too dark to reveal that he was blushing. "I came to _dance_. Not to be stared at by perverts, even if they are friends of my friends." And it figured; only Bakura would have a friend like this.

"That's good to know," Mariku said, watching him with a lidded gaze that made Malik squirm. "I wouldn't want you inviting people to watch what's mine."

Malik's jaw dropped. "What did you - "

It was a pity that he never got the chance to finish his sentence. He had a really good rant saved up for perverts. But as it turned out, Mariku was equally good at avoiding rants, and he proved it when he stood up, leaned across the table, yanked Malik up by the hem of his mesh shirt, and took full advantage of his open mouth to drag him into the kind of kiss that Malik probably wasn't old enough to watch on television, much less participate in.

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Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews. I'm using this story as an experiment more than anything and I can't tell whether I like where it's gone or not. This chapter definitely reaches an M rating but I doubt I'll take it any further.

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Instincts that continued to sound suspiciously like Isis warned, no, _commanded_ Malik to pull away – immediately. But he'd never been one for doing what he was told, no matter who was trying to tell him what to do. He made a low sound deep in his throat and, without thinking, pressed closer, seeking more contact. Mariku's tongue swept across his lower lip, demanding access. Automatically, his own lips parted without his permission, allowing the invasion. It was his first French kiss and it made his knees go so weak that he might have fallen back down into his chair if it wasn't for Mariku's hands, which were still tangled into his mesh shirt.

Eventually, it was the hard edge of the table, which was digging into his hips and getting perilously close to a _very_ important part of him, that made him pull away. His breath was coming in pants by that point, and his clothing and hair were badly mussed, though he had no memory of hands finding their way into his hair. Mariku, irritatingly enough, still looked cool and calm as he sat back down with a smirk that could only be described as smug. Malik sat down – fell down – and stared blankly at him, trying to get his mind back into some semblance of order.

"Drinks, anyone?" Ryou was there suddenly, holding a tray that he'd undoubtedly 'borrowed' from some waitress (Bakura was not the world's best influence sometimes). He wore a strained, awkward smile as he set four glasses down on the table. Two were filled with beer, and the other with a dark substance that was likely cola. Bakura followed on his heels with two more bright purple drinks, which was likely how Ryou had gotten the alcohol in the first place.

"Thanks," Malik said. He avoided Mariku's eyes as he snatched one of the purple drinks out of Bakura's hand. Surprisingly, the white-haired boy didn't cuss him out. In fact, Bakura merely glanced over at Mariku and then smirked. It made Malik want to dump his drink over Bakura's head and storm out. Instead, he sipped at the drink, which was too pretty to waste on an idiot like Bakura. And delicious, as it turned out.

"Are you enjoying your time?" Ryou asked, fingering his glass with distaste. He picked up one of the sodas instead. It wasn't that he didn't drink, but experience had taught him that it was necessary for him to be the sober one of the group. Bakura could get wild when he was drunk, and it usually required everything he had to distract the older boy.

"'S alright," he muttered, setting his drink down. Mariku was talking to Bakura in a voice too soft to be overheard, but he was highly conscious of the way that Mariku was still staring at him with an almost predatory gaze. It sent shivers down his spine, but the attention wasn't entirely unwelcome, and he didn't really understand why. For as long as he'd been coming out to clubs, he'd always turned down the attention of every guy or girl who had ever tried to pick him up, whether they knew Ryou or Bakura or not. What made Mariku so different? Why did he wish that Mariku would stand up and drag him over the table for another hot kiss?

Fuck. Malik glared down at his drink, realizing that the night had been ruined. Normally he felt edgy and restless whenever he sat down to rest in a club, but tonight, he had no interest in getting back out there. All of his usually overwhelming desire to dance and have fun had faded the moment he caught sight of Mariku's mesmerizing gaze. Frustrated, he tossed back the remainder of the liquid and stood up. The world tilted ever so slightly – he'd never really been that great at holding his liquor, but at least he wasn't as bad as Ryou – but he figured he'd be able to make it home with no problems. It wasn't that far.

"Where are you going?" Eyes wide with surprise, Ryou blinked up at him.

"Home," he answered shortly, straightening his mesh top. He could feel those eyes burning a hole in his back, but he refused to turn and give Mariku the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

Ryou looked astonished. "But it's not even ten yet!"

Not deigning to answer that, Malik simply spun on his heel and walked away from the table. His slender form made it relatively easy to make his way through the bustling dance floor towards the door, where the bouncers let him through without comment. It would be a good twenty minute walk back home, but he found that he didn't really mind. With the sun's disappearance, a cool breeze had sprung up that made the night air feel good on his warm body. He ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed out loud, realizing that Isis had been right. He should have stayed home after all. Not that he'd ever let_ her_ know that.

The downtown area was crowded, and many of the passing teens gave him openly appreciative looks as he walked by. Malik ignored all of them, but it didn't take him long to notice that several of them actually looked frightened as they glanced away hastily. It was his first clue that someone was following him. One hand clenching loosely into a fist, he spun, not at all surprised to find Mariku about twenty feet behind him. Close enough to scare people away, but far enough back to avoid notice.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Malik hissed, at the end of his - admittedly limited - patience.

"Following you," Mariku said, raising an eyebrow. An amused smile tugged at his lips as he sauntered closer. "I'd have thought that would have been obvious. Feisty but apparently not very intelligent. Just the way that I like them."

That did it. Malik growled under his breath and threw a punch, thinking only of how good it would feel to hit the smug bastard right in the middle of his face. He wasn't sure what he was expecting - Mariku had a good five inches and several pounds on him, but he'd been trained in how to fight - but it wasn't what he got. Mariku dodged the punch with ease and twisted to slam him back against the wall of a store. His body pressed close to Malik's, pinning the smaller boy and giving him no chance for escape no matter how much he squirmed.

"Get the fuck off!" he yelled.

Mariku made a 'tsking' sound with his tongue. "I think not. I won this poor excuse for a fight and now I'll take my prize," he purred.

"What - " The rest of his sentence was cut off when Mariku leaned forward and caught his lips in another kiss. This time, he didn't wait for access to be granted, but pushed Malik's mouth open and tilted his chin up. Malik kissed back without thinking, ignoring the little voice that was screaming for him to push Mariku away. And when Mariku's hand cupped the front of his pants, clever fingers stroking him into full hardness, he could only gasp and curl his fingers into Mariku's shirt.

"You can't - not here - " he gasped, yanking away, suddenly highly conscious of the people still walking by them on the street. They were in the shadows thanks to a protective overhanging on the door above them, but anyone who looked close would easily be able to make out what they were doing.

"Sure I can." Deft hands unfastened his pants and plunged inside, curling around his erection. Malik caught his breath and saw stars when he jerked instinctively and accidentally slammed his head against the wall behind him. The sharp burst of pain disappeared in a wave of pleasure and Mariku's warm chuckle. "Do you know how beautiful you look right now, Kitten? I thought you were sexy as hell in that club, but right now I wish I could just fuck you right here and give everyone a taste of what they're missing."

Oh Ra. Malik distantly heard himself make a sound that was suspiciously like a whimper. Mariku seemed to know exactly how to touch and stroke to get him so fired up that he probably would have allowed the older boy to do just that if he had pushed the issue. Fortunately, he didn't. He seemed content with bringing Malik to the brink and then stalling his touch, just barely touching the heated skin, until the younger boy writhed helplessly, biting his lip to keep back the pleas that wanted to spill forth.

"Say it," Mariku whispered, fastening his lips to the side of Malik's neck. He tasted the skin languidly, slowly drawing his tongue up around Malik's earlobe and tugging lightly on the skin. Another gasp was his reward. "Say it, Kitten."

"S-say… what…?" Malik closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. His body was trembling with the force of what was coming, but Mariku was purposely keeping him from going over the edge, and it was immensely frustrating. Another whimper was torn from his lips as fingers ghosted over the head before disappearing. "Please, Mariku, I… I… don't…"

"Just say that you're mine."

Malik's eyes flew open and he stared incredulously into the dark eyes in front of him. "_What_?" he cried, pleasure temporarily taking a back seat. "You - what - no!"

"I think you will," Mariku said pleasantly. He did _something_ with his hands - Malik wasn't quite sure what - but it was enough. It felt like his bones and muscles were melting with pleasure. Leaning closer, he spoke into Malik's ear. "It's the truth. I claimed you the moment I saw you a year ago, but you were never quite ready for me until now. Bakura made sure that no one else would move in on my territory."

Bakura. That_ bastard_. Suddenly, all of the night's cryptic comments, including Ryou's worried looks, made a lot more sense. Malik shook his head and squirmed, using his hands to try to shove Mariku away. "Y-you can just f-uck off," he panted.

"Fuck? A fine idea, and here I thought your sense of propriety and morals might be holding you back." Mariku grinned.

"I don't - uh - belong to you!"

"You do. You will. Fortunately for you, I'm willing to wait for you to understand." Swiftly, Mariku kissed him again and tightened his grip at the same time. That was enough. Malik came with a strangled cry that was swallowed before it hit the air. His vision must have blacked out for a moment because when he could see again, his arm was around Mariku's shoulders and he was being helped down the street.

"Bastard. I hate you," Malik hissed, realizing that his skin was still fizzing and tingling. His legs felt weak and didn't want to support his weight. He couldn't remember ever having come like _that _before. Maybe it would be worth - no. _No_. His eyes caught Mariku's knowing smirk and he blushed heavily.

He was going to go home and never see Mariku again.

Yes.

That's what he was going to do.

"So what do you say?" Mariku asked, drawing a single finger down Malik's cheek. "Want to go fuck?"

Malik thought about his options.

Considered kicking Mariku and making a run for it.

Swallowed hard and said one word.

"Yes."

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Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Here it is; the official end. My third attempt at slash of an M rating and only my second time going so far. It was both mortifying and hot to write, odd combination as that is. Hope you enjoy it because this is definitely the last chapter.

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For as long as he lived, Malik didn't think he'd ever get used to this part. He steadied himself by placing his hands on Mariku's shoulders and, with the help of the strong hands gripping his hips, slowly eased himself down. With so little preparation, it stung just like always, but that was the way both of them liked it. He couldn't contain the groan of pleasure that escaped as his ass came to fully rest against smooth skin, and he briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of being full again. A hand brushed damp blond strands out of his face and he blinked, looking down into violet eyes so dark they looked black.

"So fucking sexy," Mariku observed with a smirk, purposely twisting and lifting his hips. Malik's breath caught in his throat and he moaned, arching his back at the unexpected, white-hot surge of pleasure that raced up his spine.

"Thought I was supposed to be the one in control this time?" he shot back, clutching at the broad shoulders in an effort to orient himself. It was so easy to get lost in Mariku. Most of the time, he felt like he was slowly being consumed, like he couldn't even keep his head above water, and he fucking _loved _it. But sometimes, when he was trying to concentrate, it was annoying.

"You're the one on top. It's not my fault if you can't step up," came the haughty reply, accompanied by another thrust that hit just right.

"I can… do it… bastard," he gasped out, fingers tightening to the point where there would be vivid bruises left by morning. Mariku hissed in approval at the pain and used his considerable strength to get the younger boy started, easily helping to support Malik's slender weight as he began to slide up and down. There were few things he enjoyed more than watching his lover come undone. Even after months, Malik still had no idea how completely sexy and desirable he could look.

Time passed in a pleasure-induced blur. Malik was only vaguely aware of the muscles in his legs beginning to shake from the strain. His attention was locked on what was happening between the two of them, and he could feel himself growing closer right before his legs gave out on him. He whined and lost his rhythm, instead squirming almost mindlessly in an attempt to hit that spot. Mariku chuckled and, with one smooth, practiced movement, sat up and flipped them, slipping Malik beneath his body and pressing him into the bed. Dazed lavender eyes fluttered open and Malik stared up at him.

"Please…" he whimpered, writhing against the bed. "Mariku… please…"

Refusing to oblige, Mariku kept Malik pinned to the bed with a single iron grip on his hips as his eyes hungrily roamed over the delectable sight that belonged solely to him. Malik's skin was flushed a dusky, appealing shade of pink, and his sweat-dampened blond hair was stuck to his forehead and cheeks. Numerous bruises and bites littered the skin of his neck and torso, and he couldn't resist purposely pressing on a few of the bites just to watch the delicious way Malik thrashed under his touch.

"Stop fucking torturing me, you bastard!" Malik snapped, regaining his senses enough to wrap his arms around Mariku and dig his nails into the skin of his back. Mariku groaned at the pain, his eyes flashing with desire. Smirking to himself, Malik slowly raked his nails down, deliberately gouging the toned skin of his lover. He knew that Mariku loved pain mixed in with his pleasure and he kept his nails long for that purpose.

"If you insist." Pulling out, Mariku snapped his hips forward, sliding home in one smooth practiced movement. Malik cried out and unconsciously held on tighter, digging his nails in that much deeper as his older lover began to pound into him steadily. Moaning, he lifted his hips in encouragement, hoping for more friction.

"Harder, Mariku," he pleaded, closing his eyes. Sudden dampness made his grip on Mariku slippery, and he knew he'd drawn blood as a hand wrapped around his erection and began to stroke, increasing his pleasure. He vaguely heard himself gasping and crying out as it began to get to the point where it was too much.

"Come for me, Kitten. It's time," Mariku growled in his ear. Groaning deep in his throat, he braced himself against the headboard as Malik tightened around him, his inner walls squeezing hard. Impulsively, he kissed Malik deeply, swallowing his cries as they reached the edge and came together.

Malik stared up at the ceiling, his whole body shaking as Mariku pulled out and settled beside him. One of his hands was lifted, and then he felt hot warmth engulfing his fingers. He shuddered and closed his eyes as Mariku slowly and deliberately licked all of the blood from his skin. At one point in their relationship, that probably would have been enough to send him running. Not anymore. His whole world had changed the minute that he made the decision to go home with Mariku, and it hadn't all been for the better.

His lover and his sister did not get along. Period. If Isis disliked Bakura, she _loathed_ Mariku for 'perverting her baby brother'. It didn't help that Mariku took great pleasure in molesting Malik in front of Isis every chance he got. Malik did his best to keep them apart, but it wasn't easy when both of them demanded so much of his attention. Isis was just trying to keep him away from Mariku, and Mariku was like a little kid in that if Malik took his eyes off of him for a minute, Mariku would be out causing destruction and mayhem in a heartbeat. Without him! Malik pouted at the thought.

"Problems, Kitten?" Mariku asked as he examined the hand carefully for any spots he might have missed. Finding none, he moved on to Malik's other hand, skillfully sucking each slender digit into his mouth and laving the sensitive skin with his tongue.

"N-no," Malik said, hating how shaky he sounded. Damn Mariku for having that kind of effect on him. No one could get him as hot as Mariku could, and the idiot knew it. Indeed, Mariku smirked and crawled up his body to take his lips in a hot, possessive kiss that tasted suspiciously of things that Malik didn't want to think too closely about. He did have limits, no matter how hard Mariku was trying to break them.

"Really," Mariku murmured against his mouth. His hands were beginning to roam to places that were definitely taking notice of the surprisingly gentle, teasing touches.

"Yes?" It sounded like a question because Malik couldn't even remember what had been asked. He took a deep breath, forcing his mind to focus, and squirmed out from beneath the weight of the taller body. Mariku raised an eyebrow with interest and rolled over as Malik knelt beside him, looking determined.

"Going to try again?" he asked with interest.

"Until I get it right," Malik replied, a smirk gracing his lips as he edged closer in a very deliberate way that made his body look sleek and sexy. Eyes darkening with desire, Mariku grabbed his shoulders and yanked him on top. As their lips met again, Malik distantly thought that his lover probably wouldn't have a problem with trying again. And again. And again.

The End

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